Chapter 38 Chapter 38
Chapter 38 Chapter 38
~ Elena’s POV
I jumped at Damian’s voice. The papers flying around with me suddenly turned around and fluttered back to the ground like scared birds. For a second, I couldn’t breathe, my chest tightened, and my hands went cold. He was already at my side, as he dropped to his knees and started gathering the scattered files with fast, efficient movements, eye studying mine.
“How did you—?“ he asked, folding a page carefully. His voice was low, not angry, just curious, as if he wanted to know how I got here.
My tongue suddenly felt thick. My mouth went dry. “Isabella told me,“ I admitted. “When she kidnapped me… she told me about a hidden drawer in your wardrobe.“
He kept his gaze on me for a beat, unreadable. Then he neatly arranged the papers in his hands and stood up, gently taking my arm and making me stand with him.
“Isabella says a lot of things,“ he replied quietly, almost dismissively.
Curiosity ate at me, stronger than my sense. “What are those files?“
“Confidential,“ he said, turning away, clearly done with the conversation, but I wasn’t. I wasn’t even nearly done.
“Elena—“
“Damian, let me see them.“ I snatched the file from his hand before he could react. “Elena—“
But I had already opened it. My breath caught in my throat. The images were brutal…Luca was lying on the ground, barely recognizable, his face swollen, blood covering most of his skin. My stomach twisted painfully.
“What…..what is this?“ My voice cracked. “You promised you’d leave him alive.“
“I did,“ Damian said. His voice was steady, too steady, and I was surprised at myself for being shocked. “He’s alive. And I told you I’d handle it my way.“
“Your way??“ My voice rose a little. “Damian, you nearly killed him!“
His jaw tightened, and I knew he wasn’t going to justify anything. He didn’t think he needed to. I couldn’t look at the pictures anymore. The nausea, the guilt, the anger….it all converged where they landed, and stormed out of the room. My feet carried me straight to my old bedroom.
The moment I stepped inside, I felt a strange bittersweet comfort. For a second, it felt like my world wasn’t shattered, like Mom wasn’t gone, and Dad wasn’t—
I swallowed the thought. But the memories poured in anyway, suffocating me. A sob clawed its way out as I curled up on the bed, hugging myself, letting the tears spill freely.
I didn’t hear Damian enter. I only felt the mattress dip behind me. His arms slipped around my waist, pulling me back into him. I stiffened, pushing weakly at his hands.
“Don’t,“ I whispered brokenly. “Just—don’t—“
He didn’t listen. Instead, he hushed me softly, brushing his thumb through my hair. “Elena…..stop fighting me.“
And just like that, I fell apart again, sobbing into the sheets while he held me as if he could absorb the grief for me. The night passed like that…quiet crying, exhausted silence, Damian’s arms never once leaving me.
~ The Next Morning
Sunlight woke me up, but Damian wasn’t in the bed. A dress lay neatly folded at the foot of the mattress. I touched it, swallowing the lump in my throat. I changed, went downstairs, and found him waiting at the dining table. He stood when he saw me.
“Let’s eat,“ he said softly. We had breakfast together, though I barely tasted anything. Afterward, he folded his napkin and looked at me.
“You can continue your work,“ he said. “But only from home.“
“Okay,“ I whispered, not having the energy to argue. Before leaving, Damian instructed the same female guard to stay with me at all times. She stood near the middle of the mansion like a statue, completely uninterested in any conversation attempt from my side.
Hours passed in a blur until Vito Moretti summoned me. I walked into his office quietly. He stood behind his desk, hands clasped. “Elena,“ he greeted. “I am….very sorry about your father.“
“Thank you,“ I murmured. He studied me carefully. “Do you know the real reason behind the marriage between the Morettis and the Russos?“
I slowly shook my head. “I assumed it was because my dad witnessed…..something he shouldn’t have.“
“No,“ he said with a faint smile. “The Morettis don’t marry for something so trivial. Ask Damian. If he refuses….. come to me. I will tell you.“
My stomach twisted. The question I never asked myself was just put in front of me by none other than Damian’s father. Why did he want me to know? And why now of all times?
I left Vito’s office, walked straight to Damian’s study without even realizing I was going there. My hands moved on their own, reaching for his laptop. When the password screen popped up, I hesitated only a second before typing the date of his mother’s death.
The screen luckily unlocked. Guilt flickered inside me, but I silenced it. I searched every folder, every document, but there was nothing suspicious. There were files and documents that were filled with information on Isabella and my family as well, but I knew he kept tabs on everyone, so it wasn’t new. All I needed was confirmation that he was or wasn’t involved in my father’s death.
Unsatisfied, I turned to his shelf. I moved from one book to another in hopes of finding something that might give me the benefit of the doubt. But I didn’t find anything there as well, so I moved to his desk. Drawer by drawer, I worked through his files, invoices, and receipts.
Then….I found a drawer that wouldn’t open. It was locked. I stared at it, pulse quickening, Isabella’s voice echoing in my head loudly.
Ask him why he’s dead.
I grabbed a bobby pin from my hair. It took a few tries, but finally, it clicked. The drawer slid open. A stack of files sat inside, neatly arranged. I flipped through them one by one. Most were irrelevant. There were other files that I wanted to check too, the ones that had names that rang a familiar bell in my head.
But then my fingers froze around a file labeled.
Adrian Russo…….My father’s name.